\"Lucy?\" He called her as she turned. If he succeeds there, I do not know how I can prove myself. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. Admire her as much as you choose—at a distance.
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